The Coldest Ice Never Breaks
by Thunderstruck 61
Summary: A depiction of the harsher more real side to Skyrim. Also a very lore friendly piece of writing. Take a step and click the link.


**Bethesda Softworks owns the Elder Scrolls universe and I own this story.**

_A/N: Thank you for reading and please review all types of criticism are good. This chapter/story is pretty lore heavy I've presented a glossary for things that I feel may not be easily understood._  
><em>Glossary: <em>  
><em>I.L.S.- Imperial Legion Ship<em>  
><em>Renrijra Krin- Khajiit Guerrilla fighters<em>  
><em>Senche- Giant cats the Khajiit mount like horses<em>

* * *

><p>The <em>Sea Dog <em>swayed uneasily on the cold, choppy waters. A group of people started to gather on the deck all of them assembling silently. Everyone's clothing started to moisten as mist overtook the deck. The First-Mate Torgald of clan Sea-Dreamer gave a heavy sigh and saw the steam of his breath join the mist. He was home; the air tasted different here. The salty scent rising from the grey depths were unmistakable and unlike anywhere else in the world. Torgald had sailed these seas before—here it was cold and harsh. It was home. It was Skyrim.

It had been thirty years ago when he sailed away from these familiar waters. Back then he left for war and now war did not matter too much. The Thalmor killed too many of his friends, desecrated every true born Nord's heritage by taking away the worship of the man who became Divine, Tiber Septim the Dragon in the North also known as Ysmir to the old Nords and Talos to the new. Torgald now fell into the former and had little to show for his life. When he was a young man serving as a coxswain on the _I.L.S._ _Storm Cloud _Torgald took command of his sinking ship during the battle of the Imperial City. With his ranking officers dead or routed Torgald himself organized and saved twenty able-bodied Nords from the depths of Lake Rumare. And for his crowning achievement he received a promotion and honors from Legate Quintillius Hermanus of the IX Legion. As a veteran during the Battle of the Red Ring Torgald had made his way up to Second-Mate of the _I.L.S. Wave Cutter_ and was among the first ships to retake the Imperial City's Waterfront District. After came peace at a high price. The White Gold Concordant, when Emperor Titus Meade II signed away a god and an empire. Torgald, along with many outraged Nords, left the Legion after the outrageous treaty soon finding work as First-Mate on the _Sea Dog_;a ship that hailed from nowhere and did anything it was paid to. Torgald did not mind being a sell sail or a cargo runner as long as he was payed and could experience the open seas of Tamriel. And now he was back to where his life began; the years at sea wizened Torgald from the young man that had last seen these waters.

Presently, the _Sea Dog _was escorting passengers from High Rock to Skyrim although instead of the expected Breton horde there was a large mix of races traveling from the Rock to Skyrim. When they checked all of them in Torgald oversaw each passenger. All in all there were around thirty-five, six Breton nobles off to a wedding in Solitude, seven Redguard Alik'r warriors who were looking for someone in Whiterun, eleven Dunmer stopping in Skyrim before their final journey to Solstheim, six Khajiiti _Renrijra Krin_ all with their giant _Senche_ mounts, a melancholic Orc on his way to Skyrim to find a challenge and two Argonians on their way to Riften at a Jarl's summon. And lastly was a group that immediately grabbed Torgald's attention. Two Bosmer men accompanied an Altmer girl with pitch black hair flowing over her shoulders. The trio stuck Torgald's mind because of the girl's raiment; she wore Thalmor robes with a hood perpetually hiding her visage. The Altmer expressed a cold control over her two servants and during the voyage all three spent a large amount of the journey on deck scanning the waters for the coast.

The veteran in Torgald remained wary. He knew the capabilities of a Thalmor; he had seen them vanish in front of his eyes and turn men to ash with a stare. And this Thalmor seemed just as powerful as the others. But now Torgald was being approached by Captain Yalgrouf. The old Nord Captain whispered to Torgald "We are but six hours from the port of Windhelm and we must be wary, the coasts of Winterhold contains an abundance of glaciers." Torgald had heard of the numerous shipwrecks and quickly responded "Aye. Who shall address the crowd?" Yalgrouf sighed "Tell them what I told you and then make 'em disperse especially the Thalmor." The order surprised Torgald, up until now his captain had not portrayed a single sense of suspicion about the high elf. "What has you bothered Captain?" Yalgrouf gazed into the mists for a moment before he answered "She scares the crew and we can't have them distracted." The captain gave a grunt that Torgald took as his dismissal and quickly raised his voice to a shout "All on deck, we are yet six hours from land an' have the worst ahead of us. Keep eyes out for glaciers. All passengers on deck have been requested by the captain to spend the rest of their time in their quarters preparing for their departure and staying out of the crew's way." Torgald finished as the crew and crowd dispersed.

Yet the Altmer remained leaning off the starboard rails peering into the mist. Torgald grew angry "Stuck up bitch," he whispered under his breath as he approached her. "Excuse me ma'am the captain has requested you go below deck." Torgald said with a stern voice. The woman turned and faced the First-Mate, she stood only slightly taller than Torgald and retorted "I think it's best I remain here." Torgald hid his confusion and quickly replied "Frankly ma'am it's not about what you think, the captain has given an order and you will follow." The Thalmor stared at Torgald for a moment that felt like hours then walked away without a word. Torgald's gaze followed her until he saw her go below deck then he gave a slight sigh.

Something about her gave Torgald an inner fright. His suspicion would have to be put on hold, it was imperative that he direct his crew through the icy waters. A First-Mate's duties often consisted of yelling mixed with a bit of screaming. The next five hours Torgald directed the helmsman through midnight mists and the witching hour's dangerous glaciers. Torgald had to take pride in how skilled the crew was, although not all had proper experience they could direct their home through conditions that lesser sailors would take a week avoiding. Around half a league over the starboard side of the ship Torgald sighted the mountainous land of Skyrim. The ice was gathered thicker toward land and could be easily contrasted with the black of the night. Both moons were new tonight and as a result the ice avoided the sight of most people but Nords had an inherit sense of cold and the best Nordic sailors could use their gifts to discern the higher concentration of cold near glaciers and packs of ice.

Torgald soon strode down the stairs of the bridge and into the captain's quarters. He found the Captain in a weak slumber and woke him with a shut of the door. "Status?" Yalgrouf tiredly grunted. "We are through the worst and have slowed pace to await for dawn. We are close to Whiterun, I say two hours as the seal swims." Torgald responded. The captain gave a stiff nod as the solid lines of the old Nord's face forced themselves into a grimace. Nostalgically Yalgrouf started to speak "I was in the Battle of the Red Ring...and I have slain my fair share of Thalmor. Peace is here now and their gold is as good as any but I wager my sword arm that our Thalmor bitch is up to something." Yalgrouf stated. Torgald could see the contemplation brewing in Yalgrouf's mind but remained silent for his captain. Yalgrouf gave a slight nod to himself, "I will gather everyone on deck to announce our status. Arm yourself...and as much of the crew that you can alert without drawing too much suspicion. I will remain unarmed to not attract attention. I have a bad feeling. Keep a solid vigil." Yalgrouf ended as he rose not waiting for the "Aye." from Torgald as he too stalked out of the room to carry out his orders.

On his way to his quarters Torgald ran into few crew members and to each he told them to ready their sword arms. As he entered his chamber Yalgrouf heard the growling of the _Senche _on the deck below him. They were just as perturbed as the rest of the crew, readying themselves for a fight. Torgald gazed about his small quarters and opened a large chest he kept in the corner of the room. Precisely grabbing a bundled piece of cloth. He had not seen his friend in a long time, unwrapping the cloth he revealed a steel longsword engraved with images of whales devouring ships. _Keelcutter _the blade of his clan, bestowed to him when he went off to war by his grandfather Arghar Sea-Dreamer. The sword had slain many of Torgald's enemies. Buckling the sword to his belt Torgald went down on one knee and gave a quick prayer to Ysmir.

When he joined the concession on deck the crowd bolstered sixty people. Nearly all the crew as well as passengers were in attendance. Dawn broke across the horizon lighting up the white ice with purple, pink hues. Situating himself near the port rails Torgald noticed the Thalmor and her servants were at the front of the crowd closest to the captain. Yalgrouf's voice rose to a yell "Everyone, as you all know we are close to our destination we require that all of you prepare your things and be ready for a speedy departure, do not hinder any member of the crew and everything should go smoothly..." If the captain was going to say anymore Torgald would never know it. The Thalmor stepped forward, slightly breaking herself off from the crowd, then her voice was heard. "I am deeply sorry everyone. This vessel is now property of the Aldmeri Dominion." At her last syllable appeared large masses of energy across the ship. Portals soon led Thalmor shock troops onto the deck, mostly Bosmer skirmishers.

But almost as quickly as Torgald assessed the situation he saw Yalgrouf leap at the lady Thalmor, roughly tackling her to the deck and within the next instant delivering a punch to her face that clearly cracked her jaw bone. Torgald drew _Keelcutter _while Yalgrouf's Thalmor started wrestling back, using her hands to burn the captain's skin. As the burnt flesh smell started filling the deck a Bosmer wielding a sword too big for him charged. Torgald quickly dodged around him giving him a a slash to the neck severing his spinal cord. Quickly looking around the deck Torgald saw both Argonians jumping overboard no doubt making their way to shore, the Khajiit had spears and short swords drawn in fighting stances and all at once shouted their Renrijra Krin war cry "Fusozay Var Dar!" Torgald, as anyone else who served in war with—or against—a Khajiit knew the translation "Kill without qualm." The Alik'r were fighting close together searching for weakness in the denizens of Bosmer and Thalmor. Torgald charged into the fray running past a Breton being cut down by a Bosmer. He was looking for Yalgrouf and his opponent.

The First-Mate noticed that most of the enemies were Bosmer and scanning the crowd noticed only ten or so Thalmor wizards. While he attempted to charge at the wizard near the port rails a young Bosmer ran to him trying to smite him. Torgald had fought in many battles and although it had been years adrenaline and reflexes kicked in. As the Bosmer's blow came down Torgald held out his hand to block the force. When the blade connected blood burst from his palm and Torgald's entire arm shot in pain, but the Bosmer was stupefied by the Nord's feat. Wrenching the sword away from the soldier Torgald grabbed the wood elf by the scruff of his raiment and threw him over the rails. Turning to find his original target a Khajiit whirled past him. The Khajiit had found the Thalmor wizard and attempted to give a spinning slash. The Thalmor dextrously dodged and countered with a shot of ice. The two started a graceful dance with each of them avoiding the others attacks. Then the Khajiit disappeared, unexpectedly making himself invisible. Torgald noticed the Thalmor's eyes immediately glowing purple trying to detect the hidden warrior. But as the Thalmor's eyes found the stealthed Khajiit the high elf's side started to pour with blood. Within a moment a blade appeared where the blood had formed. Dumbfounded that the warrior had cloaked the thrown knife the Thalmor practically let himself be taken by the killing blow of the Khajiit.

Torgald wielded _Keelcutter _through wood elf after wood elf. They were not the veteran warriors he faced during the Great War. Looking onward the First-Mate saw the Orc taking on three opponents at once. The Orc threw a Bosmer over Torgald's head into the unforgiving depths of the sea, instinctively turning he saw the Orc take a wood elf into a headlock while slashing the head off of another enemy and finishing the captive by biting through his skull.

Then in a moment the battle seemed to stop. Everyone paused as a large portal opened in the center of the deck and revealed an ancient looking Altmer. By human standards he looked to be in his nineties, by Altmer standards he had to be close to one thousand years old. And with him he carried a staff of gnarled wood twice the size that he was but the real wonder was his attire. He wore a robe of Thalmor colors but instead of cloth it was stone, dark obsidian, rubies, welkynd stones...all of them shone with illumination that could only come from magick. When everyone was awakened from their anstupor the battle continued. While he navigated the battlefield Torgald glanced at the old man. The ancient Thalmor just slowly walked across the deck. A brave crewman leaped to tackle the elf overboard but as he made contact the Altmer's skin turned to vapor and like a ghost the crewman passed straight through the high elf.

A pike of ice flashed across Torgald's face. The Nord turned and met the face of a young Thalmor sorcerer. Blazing _Keelcutter _toward his enemy Torgald received only a smile from the wizard. As the blade impacted Torgald noticed his target's palms glowing white but before he could correct himself the full momemtum of the blade slashed across the face of the Thalmor. As soon as the blade hit the flesh Torgald's face erupted in pain realizing the full effect of the damage reflection. Where the elf's face brandished a bruise the Nord's face surely had received a severe laceration to the bone. With one eye blinded by blood the First-Mate recoiled hoping that the Thalmor did not try to quickly finish him. Within a moment the adrenaline caught up with Torgald and he turned to face the wizard once more but before he could strike him once more an arrow flashed over his shoulder and impacted the young wizard in the chest.

Then suddenly everything stopped. The First-Mate could not move; he heard only slight murmurs and breathing. In a moment the entire battle stopped. The Thalmor with the arrow in his chest stumbled forward pushing Torgald onto the ground. Torgald felt the impact of the fall but his muscles were unable to recoil. With his new perspective the Nord could see the Thalmor wizards moving about the ship; a sorceress moved to aid her comrade with the projectile in his chest. Peering about he saw that every combatant was paralyzed including the Bosmer skirmishers. The only exception were the Thalmor wizards who began to move freely about the deck tending to the medical needs of their comrades. Stretching his eyes to their limits Torgald found the source of the spell.

The ancient high elf floated a few feet above the deck and levitating with him was the burned body of the captain. A strange purple aura weaved between the two men the mien of the ancient wizard was rife in concentration. The Thalmor's eyes were closed and his teeth gritted when Torgald saw the grip on his giant staff tighten. When the the Thalmor's fingers flexed on his staff the spell was magnified and Torgald felt his respiration stop. Suffocation soon ran throughout his body. Torgald's mind raced and panicked—he could not struggle. Lightheadedness started and his heart rate began to slow. _So this is how it ends. _Torgald's mind wavered—his thoughts becoming harder to process. _So much left to do..._Torgald's sight soon faded to black.


End file.
